


Picture Not Perfect

by roxyryoko



Series: Drabbles in the Dark [26]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Canon, married, painter Ignatz, this boy can't sit still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:08:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26385391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyryoko/pseuds/roxyryoko
Summary: Hilda has commissioned Ignatz to paint a couple's portrait of her and Caspar to commemorate their marriage. Unfortunately, sitting still for such a process is the worst torture imaginable for Caspar.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Series: Drabbles in the Dark [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590193
Comments: 25
Kudos: 41
Collections: Those Who Drabble in the Dark





	Picture Not Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Felannie server drabble prompt "first experiences"!

“Um, Caspar? You don’t have to smile the whole time, you know that, right?” Ignatz said sheepishly as he peeked his head out from behind his easel.

Caspar’s strained grin turned upside down, and from his right he heard Hilda fail to stifle a giggle, which only incited his exasperation further. He exhaled sharply through gritted teeth, doing his best to stay as still as possible like he had promised Ignatz he would.

Like he had promised Hilda, who really, really wanted this stupid portrait commissioned to commemorate their marriage and record it forever in Goneril lineage. 

But dammit, it was _torture._

For one of the rare occasions in his life, Caspar was grateful to have been born a second-son and thus spared this insufferable trial before. His elder brother’s countenance had been flaunted all over the walls of Castle Bergliez, and just thinking about how many times he would have had to sit through _this_ if their birth order had been reversed deepened Caspar’s grimace and intensified his itch to move.

Though, he supposed a lot of things would have been different if he had been born first. For one, he wouldn’t have Hilda seated at his side, hand placed on his in that silly way Ignatz had positioned it. Truthfully, he found the thought of a life spent without the past few years traveling together to be more unbearable than enduring self-commanded paralysis.

Head held high and all muscles relaxed, every aspect of Hilda’s demeanor was gracefully poised as the perfect model. She wore one of her finest dresses: a chocolatey velvet gown with pink floral embellishments that flowed down long tapering sleeves. Jewelry she personally crafted adorned her ears, neck, and wrists, and her hair was drawn up high, revealing the back of her slender neck. Hilda had gone heavy on the perfume today, a calming citrus aroma, and it had occurred to Caspar that perhaps the scent had been purposely chosen to soothe his inevitable restlessness. 

Without question, Hilda really did look gorgeous for the occasion, but she always did in his opinion. Though, he had learned long ago that complimenting her other characteristics rather than simply her looks earned him rosier blushes and more impassioned kisses. Still, whenever she asked a favor, face dolled up or not, he never really could say no, which explained why he acquiesced so easily to the portrait when she initially excited over the idea.

That, and Hilda had also enticed him with the prospect of riveting legends accompanying his likeness for centuries to come.

However, the appeal of such possible tales was waning by the minute, and the Goneril Knight armor was getting stuffier by the second.

With an uneasy smile, Ignatz spoke up again, “Now you’re...looking a bit unhappy. Just relax, all right? I really don’t want you to get a cramp.” 

Ignatz returned his attention back to his work and dipped his brush into a blob of paint— the color of which Caspar couldn’t see because he was busy _not_ moving, and that included his _eyes._ He did, however, try to release the tension in his jaw, but proceeded to fail miserably due to his mounting frustration.

Hilda caressed her thumb around his gloved palm in soothing circles, completely disregarding the no-moving rule. It helped slightly. At least his mouth unclenched.

“Actually, Ignatz, my leg is starting to cramp really badly,” Hilda whined. “Can we take a break soon, pretty please?”

Sometimes Hilda’s lies rubbed him wrong, but in that moment, oh, did Caspar love her. She’d gain their salvation with a few pouts and honeyed-words. 

“Ah, well, it’s only been twenty minutes or so,” Ignatz protested meekly. 

A brief pause followed, and Hilda’s infamous pout must have graced her lips for guilt raced across Ignatz’s countenance.

He cleared his throat and amended, “I suppose we can take a break. Though, can we do five more minutes, please? That is...if you can bear it.”

“You’re the best, Igantz!” Hilda said, voice overly sweet.  
  
“Thank the Goddess!” Caspar exclaimed in relief and slumped down with his heavy breath.

“Oh, um, Caspar, you moved,” Ignatz pointed out.

Caspar bolted up straight, unnaturally rigid. 

“Your head was a little...oh, never mind. It’s fine.”

The five promised minutes passed at an infuriatingly slow rate, and Caspar swore that Ignatz actually held them there an additional ten, but he couldn’t really concentrate to count the seconds down when Ignatz cordially reprimanded his drumming knee and twitching fingers _constantly_.

At long last, Ignatz announced their freedom, and Caspar leapt off the chair before the final sounds even left the painter’s mouth. His arm bumped the vase that Ignatz had dragged across the room for a staged setting, and Caspar scrambled to right it before the family heirloom shattered into a million pieces, which Hilda teased would be what happened to his bones if Holst found out it broke.

After that was corrected, Caspar lapped around the room and stretched every muscle in his body as Hilda gleefully inspected Ignatz’s progress.

“I just knew I could trust you to capture my charm!” Hilda gushed.

“Oh, it’s nothing special yet, really,” Ignatz said with a blush and shook his head.

“Nonsense! It’s amazing so far! They look just like us! I’m stunning, if I do say so myself, and…” She glanced up from the painting with a besotted smile and caught Caspar’s eye, adding, “Yup, I married quite a looker, too.”

Caspar stopped stretching and approached the two huddled around the easel in order to gander himself. 

Now, Caspar knew little about art, but...

Without much thought, he said, “Huh. You’re kinda slow aren’t you, Ignatz?” 

Hilda snorted and Ignatz’s eyes widened in disbelief as he sputtered, “Painting is…a delicate and tedious process, Caspar!”

Caspar crossed his arms and leaned closer to the canvas, assessing the wet blotches again. “I mean, it looks good, but, uh, you’ve barely got those pencil scribbles filled in, how tedious a process are we looking at, huh?” 

The painter tapped the end of his brush at his lip and looked off thoughtfully. “Oh, I’d say we’ll probably need to go another four hours at the very least today.”

Caspar gawked and shouted so loud the soldiers deployed at Fodlan’s Locket probably felt the vibrations. “ _Four_ hours!”

“Uh, we’ll be sure to take plenty of breaks.”

This was worse than any boring class lecture, worse than any long rambling war meeting, worse than watching Hilda flirtatiously plead with a shopkeeper to pardon the damage caused by a little scuffle while simultaneously restraining the urge to sock the guy when he dared to touch her. At least in all those situations, Caspar could shake his legs or crack his knuckles, but for _this_ he could scarcely breathe!

Aware of his turmoil, Hilda offered him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and that doe-eyed, fluttering-lashes look she always employed when she required a favor. 

“Please, Caspar,” she begged, which ensnared him more than her alluring regard.

He knew she _really_ wanted this painting, so in a huff he relented, “Ugh, fine!” Turning back to Ignatz, he asked, “Then you’re done, right?”

Ignatz started. “What? Done? Oh, no. I’ll need to come back probably about five other occasions“— Caspar blanched and Ignatz’s voice grew softer— “for a similar length of time…”

“ _Five more occasions!_ I’ve got training and other stuff to do!”

Ignatz recoiled back to the sanctuary of his work, a helpless look in his eyes before he busied himself mixing paints. 

Hilda moved her hand to Caspar’s cheek and guided his gaze to meet hers. “Come on, Caspar,” she said sympathetically. “I know it’s _super duper_ boring, but think of it as training for something like...espionage! You’ll be even more invaluable to my big brother if you can sneak around enemy encampments undetected. I know you are tough and can stand up to _anything_. Surely, you can overcome a little boredom.”

He groaned in reply, “Yeah, I know I _can_ do it, but, Hilda, that’s _so_ long.”

“I want my handsome Caspar immortalized for the ages. And I want to remember your face when you're off at Fodlan’s Throat for weeks on end.” She smiled sweetly and caressed his jawline with a thumb. “I promise I’ll make this all up to you with plenty of compliments and lots of kisses.”

He averted his gaze and grumbled in a low voice, “That’s slightly enticing, but this really is the worst. I think I deserve more than _that._ ”

“Well,” Hilda demurred, a blush blooming on her cheeks, “We are working on a family, so….”

“Oh,” he said, surprised, and then added a devious second, “Oh?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Caspar saw Ignatz’s entire face turn blood-red. Then the artist clasped his hands together and shakily asked, “So, uh, ready to start again?” He gestured to the chairs. “I’ll just need you two to get back into the exact same positions as before.”

“You’ve got this,” Hilda beamed before she planted a gentle kiss on Caspar’s cheek. “My brave and fearless Caspar can conquer anything!”

Invigorated by her praise and promise, Caspar grinned and exuberantly captured her lips rather than returning a simple peck. Embarrassed, Hilda squirmed, but melted into the intimacy quickly, letting him memorize the shape of her lips in a way a painting never could. 

When he pulled away, she breathlessly chastised, “Caspar! Your reward is for tonight, not now. Ugh, now I’ll have to fix my lipstick.”

He chuckled, “I endured twenty-five whole minutes. Cmon, you gotta make it worth my while.”

She shook her head, but joined his laughter. “You can’t have one every break! You’ll mortify poor Ignatz!”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Ignatz said, a furious blush on his cheeks. “I mean, it’s kind of cute, but I do feel a bit like I’m intruding…”

“See?” Caspar cajoled. “He’s fine! Come on, Hilda, I need something to keep me going!” 

Hilda swatted his chest with a disbelieving roll of her eyes before rushing off to a mirror to fix her make-up.

While applying fresh lipstick, she relented, “Maybe every two hours I’ll give you _one_ kiss. One _chaste_ kiss.”

“All right, sounds like a good deal to me!” Caspar barked.

He returned to the chair, which he now quite loathed. Hilda joined him soon after, and placed her hand on his in the same way as before, squeezing encouragingly. 

Face still crimson, Ignatz glanced from his painting to them, and back and forth, and back and forth. “Um, Caspar,” he said. “Your left foot was a little to the right.”

Begrudgingly, Caspar adjusted.

“And your head was tilted a tad more to the left.” Ignatz rotated both his head and the paintbrush he held.

Caspar craned his neck in mimicry.

“And your chest was— “

Caspar’s patience snapped.

He moaned, “Hilda, I never want my portrait painted again in my life!”

Hilda laughed and squeezed his hand again. “Aw, but Caspar I know you love me too much to really mean that. And next time, you won’t be the only one suffering. You’ll fit right in with our squirming children.”

“I’m going to get started now,” said Ignatz nervously, interrupting whatever retort Caspar could have invented. “Please hold still.”

Caspar heaved an exasperated sigh and braced himself for twenty-four more hours of torture, praying to the Goddess that Hilda would find it too troublesome to coerce him into a second family portrait. 

  


**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/roxyryoko)! As always, kudos and comments are appreciated.


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